


The Twelve Christmases

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 14:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5337329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor gets the Christmas spirit, thanks to one notorious carol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twelve Christmases

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Doctor and Donna are kind enough to let me play in their blue box, for which I am ever grateful.
> 
> A/N: This is kind of a continuation of **A Noble Christmas** , which is itself a continuation of **A Proper Christmas**. My Muse just never knows when to let go!

♪ **_On the first day of Christmas….._**

Donna Smith-Noble really didn’t want move. She had been having such a lovely dream. The air in the room had a bit of a chill and the duvet was soft and warm. But something nagged at her, and she struggled to wakefulness. And got the start of her life when she discovered her Time Lord husband sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed. He was wearing an untied green dressing gown, red t-shirt and red flannel pyjama bottoms emblazoned with candy canes. She didn’t remember seeing them last night, but to be fair, neither of them retained their night clothes for long after returning from her Mum’s house. She blushed at the memory.

It wasn’t so much the fact that the Doctor was awake and sitting on the bed. He didn’t need as much sleep as his human wife and would oftentimes watch her until she woke. No, it was the sense of tightly held excitement that belied his casual position. Well, that, and the large furred Father Christmas hat that sat on his head, presumable at what she assumed he thought was an appropriately festive angle.

“Good morning, Donna!!” he exclaimed.

“Theta, what time is it?” she asked, her voice groggy with sleep.

“Half-six,” he replied.

She groaned. “Theta, we only got to sleep five hours ago!”

“But Donna!” he pouted. “It’s Boxing Day!”

She had to laugh to herself. He really was just a great big, overgrown child. “I was hoping to sleep in a bit this morning. Mum and I are going shopping later. And then we’re expected for dinner this afternoon.”

He squirmed and grumbled. “Do we **_have_** to go?”

Donna sat up fully, revealing the lovely dark teal chemise the Doctor loved so much. “It’s your own fault, Spaceman. You set the precedent last year, remember?” We can’t very well back out now. _‘Christmas is for family’_ , you said.”

He gave a heavy sigh and slumped back. “You’re right. I did. Ah, well. It can’t be helped, I suppose.” He shifted uneasily on the bed.

Donna eyed him carefully. “Okay, what’s up?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” he replied, like Innocence personified.

“I know you didn’t wake me up at this ungodly hour just to wish me a Happy Boxing Day. You’re hiding something. What is it?”

The Doctor knew his wife very well, and resigned himself to the fact that she wouldn’t be held off for long. Which was actually fine, because, frankly, he was too excited to delay any longer. Grinning like a loon, he leaned over the side of the bed – giving Donna a lovely view of his flannel-clad bum – reached under the bed, and came back up, holding a medium-sized box wrapped in shiny gold embossed paper with red and green curling ribbon. He held it out to her and smiled. 

Donna took the box, bewildered. “Theta, what is this? We exchanged our presents last night.”

He shrugged and, with the tiniest bit of pink tinging his cheek, replied, “Happy First Day of Christmas, my love.”

Intrigued, she quickly dispensed with the wrappings and opened the box. And stared down for quite a few seconds. Finally, looking up with her brow furrowed in confusion, she stated flatly, “It’s a pear.”

“Yeah!” 

“You gave me a pear.”

“Yeah! Just like the carol!”

Donna gaped at him, not following him. Suddenly, recognition dawn and she started to laugh. “You silly prawn! That’s a **_partridge_** in a pear **_tree_**!!!”

“Well,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Avians don’t do well in the TARDIS. They’re noisy and make a mess, and she gets rather testy. So I opted for the next best thing.”

“A pear,” Donna stated again.

“That’s not just any pear! That’s a Pelargian Pear. They’re very rare. In fact, the only tree left in existence is here in our Garden Room,” he said proudly.

“Theta, you _hate_ pears. Why do you have a pear tree?!”

He was taken aback. “Well, all the pear trees on Pelargus were struck down by a fungus. I was able to rescue one lone tree from extinction and that’s the one in the Garden. It’s the last of its kind, just like me. Besides,” he exclaimed, taking the pear from the box and holding it up to her, “it’s gorgeous. I don’t have to _eat_ one to admire its artistic beauty.”

She took the fruit from him and examined it more closely. It was a pale lavender colour and had a sweet yet spicy scent. She smiled up at him. “It is lovely. Thank you.” She leaned over and pressed her lips gently to his.

“Glad you like it,” he whispered, when they had come up for air.

Donna replaced the lavender pear in its cushioned box and set it on the nightstand. “Can I go back to sleep now? I don’t have to be at Mum’s for ages.” She saw his crestfallen expression, and smiled seductively - at least she hoped it was seductive. Raising the bed covers, she sat up, the teal chemise purposefully thrust forward. “You know, Spaceman. I _could_ do with a Christmas cuddle.”

The Doctor jumped off the bed and threw his dressing gown somewhere. Diving under the covers, he wrapped her in his arms and whispered, “Best Boxing Day ever!”

 

♪ **_On the second day of Christmas….._**

The next morning, Donna woke up slowly and comfortably. She stretched and smiled to herself. She had spent a lovely afternoon with her Mum the day before, mostly window shopping. The Doctor had stayed watching sport with Wilf and, most probably, discussing space travel and ‘ _them aliens’_ , as her grandfather liked to call them. When the two women had returned, they had a simple supper of leftovers from Christmas dinner and then she and the Doctor went home to the TARDIS. It was again quite late when they – she – finally fell asleep. 

To her delight, no manic Time Lord disturbed her slumber and she was pleased to discover he had let her actually sleep to a decent hour. Getting out of bed, she took a deep breath, and was surprised to catch a whiff of bacon in the air. _‘Aww,’_ she thought, _‘the sweet thing’s gone and made breakfast.’_ Not wanting to keep him waiting, she washed and dressed quickly. 

The Doctor was standing at the TARDIS console, tinkering with various buttons and levers. He wasn’t actually doing anything. He just wanted to look busy and unconcerned when Donna emerged. Hearing her footsteps, he called out over his shoulder, “Morning, Donna. There’s a plate in the warmer and I’ve just put the kettle on for tea.”

Donna walked up behind him and put an arm around his waist. Kissing his cheek lightly, she said, “You are a wonderful husband.”

He grinned. “I know.”

She patted the cheek she had just kissed. “I’ve trained you well.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Go eat your breakfast and then we’ll see where the Old Girl wants to take us today.”

He stood at the console, watching her saunter into the kitchen, and waited. It wasn’t long before he heard Donna bellow, “ **THE – TA!!!** ”

“Yes, dear?” he called out cheerfully.

Donna stormed into the control room and held out a small wrapped box. “What is this?”

He bounced on the balls of his feet. “Happy Second Day of Christmas, my true love!!” he exclaimed excitedly.

She scowled at him. “What?? Are you serious?”

“Yep,” he replied, with a pop of the _‘p’_.

“There’s no way I can change your mind?”

“Nope!” He popped even louder and smirked.

“So you’re going to give me a gift for the next twelve days?”

“Might do,” he replied. “Although, technically, it’s ten days, since I’ve already given you two,” he stated with a cheeky grin.

Now, Donna Smith-Noble was a practical woman. She knew how deep a stubborn streak her Time Lord husband had. And, in all honesty, she loved getting presents. Bowing to the inevitable, she sighed. “Just promise me you won’t bonkers with it, okay?”

He put his arms around her and said, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” and kissed the top of her head.

“Prawn,” she said, wriggling out of his embrace. “So let’s see what Father Christmas brought me.” She tore off the wrapping to reveal a small box. Opening it, she gasped. Inside was a pair of earrings, two exquisitely carved crystal doves dangling from a delicate silver chain. They were less than an inch from beak to tail, but so detailed in the etching that she could see individual feathers on the wings. 

Throwing herself back into his arms, she cried, “Oh, Theta. These are the most beautiful things I've ever seen!”

He hugged her tightly. “I’m glad you like them. I made them out of crystal from the mines on Darius II.”

She looked at him, stunned. “You _made_ these?”

He shrugged. “I had a lot of time on my hands. You humans sleep an awful lot.”

She smacked him lightly on the arm, glaring at him. Her expression softened immediately, and she stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “I love you, you Mad Martian.”

He kissed her back enthusiastically. “I love you too. And I’m still not from Mars.”

 

♪ **_On the third day of Christmas….._**

Donna and the Doctor burst into the TARDIS, laughing like fools and shaking the water out of their hair. The doors slammed behind them, and the ship took it upon herself to take them off-planet and into the Vortex. Seeing the Time Rotor moving on its own, they looked at each other and laughed even harder.

“Looks like Old Girl’s in a bit of a hurry to get away from Ventus.” He picked up one of the towels that had appeared on the pilot’s seat and handed it to Donna, who began to blot her sodden hair.

“Can you blame her?” she asked. “The Ventuvians have no sense of humour. I mean, really. Your imitation of the Prime Minister was spot on! And he was asking for it, the pompous git.”

“Well, I probably could have been a tad more circumspect. We _were_ trying to negotiate a peace treaty, after all.”

“Right,” she snorted. “A peace treaty between two races of children. Honestly, water pistols?? Could they be more juvenile?” She bent down and took off her water-soaked shoes.

He draped his wet suit jacket over a coral strut and ran his hands through his hair. “To be fair, when your basic physiology is mud based, water can be rather dangerous.”

“Still,” she grumbled, “going to war like that was pretty childish on their part. Although, I _can_ see what fun those Super Soakers could be in other circumstances. Say,” she gave him a seductive smile. “The pool?”

He grinned. “Minx! What would you say to tea in the Library?”

“I’d say, that’s a brilliant idea.” She headed off toward the kitchen. 

He stopped her. “You go put your feet up. I’ll bring the tray.”

A few minutes later, Donna was comfortable ensconced in her favourite chair, waiting patiently for the Doctor. She had a wrapped package in her lap that she had found when she entered the Library. After he had set the tray down and poured each of them a cup, she looked at him with a soft smile. “Day Three, I presume?”

He chuckled. “I keep telling you, you’re brilliant.”

She took a sip and set her cup down on the side table. Pulling the ribbon slowly off the package, she carefully unwrapped the parcel. Inside she found three books. She looked at him quizzically.

“They are collections of the works of three female French poets. I know how much you like poetry.”

She looked at the cover of each book. Holding out the two collections from Catherine Bernard and Anne-Marie Albiach, she said, “These two I've heard of. But this other one …”

“Ah,” he replied. “I wanted to give you something from your past and present. This one is from your future.” He opened the book and pointed to the print date of 27 May 3247.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked. “What was it that annoying blonde woman in the Library kept saying? _‘Spoilers’_?”

The Doctor grimaced at the mention of the stranger from his possible future. He had tried to put her out of his mind and sincerely hoped that recent events had been sufficient to change his timeline. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much,” he answered. “It’s not like lottery numbers or launch codes. I think poetry is pretty safe.”

“Probably.” She opened the Albiach book and exclaimed, “Theta! This one’s **_in French_**!”

“I know,” he countered. “I thought I’d give you an opportunity to practice your language skills. Your French _is_ rather good. And,” he bent over to whisper to her, “maybe we can play Gomez and Morticia sometime.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She blushed and smiled back at him. “But only if Morticia can be ginger. I don’t mind the dress so much, but that wig is a pain in the arse.”

 

♪ **_On the fourth day of Christmas….._**

They had spent a rather unremarkable day on Earth, Donna visiting with her grandfather and the Doctor checking in with U.N.I.T. They had dinner with Sylvia and Wilf before returning to the TARDIS. The Doctor remarked casually that maybe she’d like to go to the study and do some journaling, since she hadn’t had an opportunity in a while.

Donna immediately became suspicious. He always thought he was being so clever, but the Doctor really was hopeless when it came to nonchalance. She suspected he had an ulterior motive for wanting her to go. Then she remembered that he hadn’t given her his Fourth Day gift. Perhaps he wanted her out of the way so he could set up another surprise.

She snickered to herself as she made her way down the corridor to the small room just off the Library. The Doctor and the TARDIS had provided her a private study, for those times she wanted a little peace and quiet to think or decompress without the presence of the manic Time Lord. It was a cosy room with a small fireplace, a roll-top desk, a glass-front bookcase, and an overstuffed chair.

She had spent many an hour here when she first began travelling with him. At first, her journal contained descriptions of places they had gone and adventures they had. Later, as her affection for him grew, her journal was a place she could express her confusion and longing for the person she thought was still grieving for another and could feel nothing more than friendship for her. Now, she recorded high points in their ever-changing relationship, and a few fantasies that she hoped someday to fulfil.

She entered the study and immediately noticed a change. On the wall above her desk was a small wooden shelf. Sitting on this shelf was an elaborately crafted brass tree with hundreds of tiny leaves attached to the branches. But the most spectacular aspect of it was the presence of four small mechanical birds.

Each bird was a different base metal – one gold, one silver, one bronze, one copper – with brightly coloured enamelled plumage. They sat on separate four branches and chirped a different but concordant melody. The tunes were light and harmonious, and Donna felt her spirit lighten as she listened. Hearing steps behind her, she turned and smiled, tears of joy threatening to spill.

“Oh, Theta. They’re beautiful.”

“Happy Fourth Day of Christmas,” he stated simply.

 

♪ **_On the fifth day of Christmas….._**

The Doctor and Donna were walking slowly down a quiet tree-lined lane. She wasn’t sure exactly where they were, Earth probably, or at least an Earth-like planet. She definitely had no idea _when_ they were, but, as she had been given a beautiful floor-length silk and velvet skirt and jacket ensemble in a sumptuous dark plum, she assumed it was sometime in the past. She really didn’t care. The air was crisp and a light dusting of snow crunched under their feet as they walked. She was snug and warm inside her heavy wool cape, and her husband held her gloved hand tucked inside his duster pocket. She was happy.

He had decided they needed a break, a bit of a holiday, after a particularly stressful adventure involving a megalomaniacal despot, an army of seven-foot tall warrior pixies, and a rather odd assortment of ferret-like creatures. He asked the TARDIS to find them a quiet spot to relax and renew their spirits. The ship, knowing his fondness for the season – and hoping to continue Donna’s reclamation of her childhood joy – brought them to a lovely little village in the Cotswolds in mid-December, sometime in the 1870’s. 

They walked in silence. That was one of the things she loved about their relationship ˗ words were often unnecessary. It amazed her sometimes. As much of a gob as he had on him, when they were alone together like this, he seemed to revel in the quiet and all it took was a look, a touch, to convey the deep emotion they felt for one another. This was a side of the Doctor that only Donna was privy to.

After a few minutes, he led her over to a bench near a duck pond. They had the park to themselves, as it was fairly early in the morning. He sat down next to her and raised her hand to his lips. He had a peculiar look on his face, one she didn’t recognize. It was a mixture of awe, and regret, and wistfulness.

“Theta, is something wrong?” she asked, as the silence grew to an uncomfortable level.

He smiled down at her. “No, not wrong. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“You. Us. How quickly all this has happened.” Seeing her raised eyebrows, he amended, “Well, quickly, once I finally accepted that I couldn’t and didn’t want to live without you, that is.”

“Well, we _had_ known each other a while before … we both came to our senses.”

“True, but it occurred to me that I never actually asked you properly.” He got down from the bench and onto one knee.

“What are you doing, you prawn? Get up from there! You’ll cause a scene!”

“There’s no one around. And I don’t care if I _do_ make a scene.” He looked up at her, his eyes shining with love. “Donna Noble, will you marry me?”

She started to laugh. “Well, since we’re already married, I reckon I have to say yes!”

He laughed with her. “I reckon you had better.” He stood up and resumed sitting at her side.

“Happy now?” she asked, caressing his cheek.

He grabbed her hand. “Not completely. The one thing I regret is that you never had a proper engagement. With a proper engagement ring.”

“I told you,” she insisted, twisting the simple gold band that matched the one he wore. “This is all I need.”

“And I say, it’s not enough.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a black velvet box and handed it to her.

“What have you done now?” she asked, shaking her head. She lifted the hinged lid and almost dropped the box. Inside was a gold ring made from five separate, delicate bands, each one with a different coloured gemstone. The bands were intertwined like an old-style puzzle ring, fitting together to make a whole. She picked it up and examined closely. Looking over at him, she said with a wry chuckle, “I seem to be saying this a lot, but, it’s beautiful.” He beamed. “And I know you. The stones aren’t random. What do they mean?”

He grinned broadly. “You clever, clever girl. Yes, there is a definite significance to the gems.” His voice lowered. “They represent our family.” Pointing to the first, he said, “That one’s your birthstone. That one,” pointing to the second, “is an approximation of the Earth equivalent of my birth month.”

Donna touched the third and fourth stones. “That’s Mum’s and that’s Gramps’.” She fingered the last stone. “This isn’t Dad’s,” she mused.

“No,” he replied softly, a slight hitch in his voice. “That’s Jenny’s.”

Donna’s gaze flew up and her eyes met his, which were filled with tears. She threw her arms around him and cried, “Oh, Spaceman!”

“She would have been our daughter, Donna,” he sobbed.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. And this is a fitting way to remember her.”

They stayed in each other’s arms for quite some time. Finally, he sat up and she brushed the tears from his cheek. Taking the ring from its box, she handed it to him and put out her left hand. He slowly slipped it on her ring finger, and it nestled perfectly against her wedding band. He leaned over and kissed her deeply, and she snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him in tightly.

The embrace grew heated and, after a few minutes, Donna came up for air. “Maybe we’d better head back to the TARDIS,” she said breathlessly.

“Good idea,” the Doctor agreed, recognizing the need for discretion in this time period, and the tell-tale tightness in his trousers. He stood and helped her up. Tucking her arm in his, they hurried back home. As he fumbled for his key in his haste to get inside, Donna leaned over and whispered in his ear, touching it lightly with the tip of her tongue, “Best Fifth Day of Christmas ever!”

 

♪ **_On the sixth day of Christmas….._**

The Doctor prowled anxiously around the console, anxiously tugging at his tuxedo jacket sleeve. “Donna!” he called out. “Will you be ready anytime soon?” He was trying very hard not to let his tone of voice reveal his impatience. “I don’t want to miss nibbles. Jack always has the best nibbles.”

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t whine.” Donna entered the control room, still putting on the volcanic stone earrings he had given her two years ago for their first ‘proper Christmas’. She dropped her wrap on the pilot’s seat and twirled. “So. What do you think? Is this okay?”

She stood before him wearing a strapless black gown and high-heeled silver-and-crystal sandals. The bodice was heavily beaded with jet and crystal that sparkled when she moved. It was form-fitting and hugged her curves, creating a push-up effect that accentuated her obvious womanly charms. A skirt of several tiers of chiffon flowed over her hips to mid-calf and floated as she walked. Her hair was swept up, arranged in delicate curls that showed off her long neck.

“Blimey,” was all he said, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping.

“What?” she demanded. “Do I look ridiculous? Like a sausage in sparkles?”

“You’re stunning. Absolutely ravishing.” He shook his head. “That’s it. I’ve changed my mind. We’re not going.”

“Oh, don’t be daft. Of course we’re going.”

“I’m sorry but I can’t. I can’t take that chance.”

“What chance? What are you on about now?”

He walked over to her and took her hands. “You look incredible. Bloody gorgeous. And I don’t trust Jack or any of his friends to keep their bloody hands off you. I won’t have it.” He stomped over to the console. “We’re not going.”

Donna chuckled to herself. The Doctor didn’t show his possessive side often but when he did … well, it did things to her nethers that were best not remarked upon in the present circumstances. She moved to his side and stopped his frantic adjustments.

“Theta. Stop. Look at me.” She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him toward her. “My silly Spaceman. You needn’t worry. Yours are the only hands I want on me, tonight or ever. Jack knows I’m taken.” She wiggled her ring finger, her new engagement ring sending a shower of reflected light. She kissed his lips lightly. “Come on. It’s New Year’s Eve! Let’s go make all those people jealous. Because **_you_** look rather dashing yourself.”

He still looked a little leery but let himself be pulled away from the console. She reached for her wrap and evening bag and was about to head for the doors when the Doctor exclaimed, “Oh! I almost forgot!!” He raced back to the console and came back with an object draped in what Donna realized was one of her old Christmas scarves. He handed it to her excitedly.

She took the object and said, “Sixth Day, I presume.” He nodded, bouncing a little in anticipation. She drew the scarf off and stared. “An egg,” she stated. “Well, I suppose that fits. _‘Six geese a-laying’_ , isn’t it?”

“Got it in one. But it’s not just any egg. This one’s is special. Sandstone, from a quarry outside London.” He had a mischievous glint in his eye.

Donna frowned as she held the eighteen-centimetre tall egg. It was plain, a pale beige stone egg. There didn’t seem to be anything remarkable about it. She looked at him quizzically. He motioned for her to look closer, on every side. Squinting a bit, she turned it around, and noticed for the first time a small hinge on the back. Tracing her finger around the circumference of the egg, she discovered a tiny button on the front, and pressed it.

She squealed with delight when the top of egg opened and nestled inside was another, smaller egg. This one was a faceted crystal, deep blue in colour. Donna grinned at the Doctor and exclaimed, “It’s like one of those Russian nesting dolls!”

He was inordinately pleased that she liked her gift and explained enthusiastically, “Exactly. How else could I get six eggs in one gift? But see? The stone is from the gem mines on Eulothia. Remember? The ones with the ice spring at the entrance?”

She turned the egg over and looked at it critically. “How could I forget? I slipped on a loose rock and ended up on my bum in ice cold water! I thought I’d never get warm again.”

He chuckled and gave her a wicked grin. “I warmed you up sufficiently, if memory serves.”

She blushed a deep pink. “I do recall something of the sort. Now hush and let me open my present.” She pushed firmly on the button on the front, and this one too opened on its hinge. This revealed a mossy green egg, smooth and polished.”

“That’s from the agate beach we went to… was it our first attempt at a honeymoon, or our second?”

“Our third, I think.” She shook her head. “ _You_ called it a beach. It was more like a lake with a gravel pit.”

“You didn’t complain at the time,” he replied with a leer. “In point of fact, you were downright please about the lack of _‘sand issues’_ , as you called it.”

Donna chose to ignore his remark and concentrated on the green egg. She examined it carefully and then turned to him. “There’s no hinge. Does it not open?”

“Twist the top. It should pop right off,” he replied.

And so it did. Lifting the top, she discovered what looked like an egg-shaped star sapphire, but in an unusual deep yellow-gold. She stared at the egg and then back at the Doctor. “That!” she stuttered in shock. “That’s the _‘Eye of Zorlath’_!!”

He sniffed nonchalantly. “Could be.”

“The last time we saw that, it was in the Imperial Staff!”

He shrugged. “Might have been.”

She grabbed his lapel and pulled him closer. “Theta, what have you done?!”

“You know as well as I do that the Zorlathis are a primitive, overly-emotional race of spoiled children. The power inherent in that stone could have wreaked havoc on that species, if one faction or the other got hold of it. I did them a favour … _appropriating_ … it.” He had the good grace to look sheepish.

She smirked. “Like you _appropriated_ the TARDIS. Still, don’t you think they’ll notice it’s gone?”

He brushed aside her concern. “I replaced it, of course. With a rather good imitation, if I do say so myself. As long as it’s shiny and sparkles, they’ll never know the difference.”

She shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

He leaned in and leered at her again. “Several things come to mind.”

She swatted his arm. “Later, you tart!” she exclaimed. He laughed and sat back, as she gently removed the top of the former Imperial gemstone. Inside was five-centimetre ruby, roughly egg-shaped, in a deep oxblood colour. She looked over at him and sighed. “Burma?” she asked simply. When he nodded, she put up one finger and stated, “I don’t want to know.” He wisely kept quiet.

Opening this fifth egg, she reached in and lifted up the final egg. This one was different from the rest. It was not simply an egg, but a pendant, suspended from delicate gold links. It was a vibrant orange, not dissimilar to her own ginger locks. It pulsed with energy and she was reluctant to touch it, fearing she would be burnt by its fire.

She looked at it closely. “I don’t recognize this one,” she remarked.

The Doctor let out a long breath. “You wouldn’t,” he replied. “It’s from Gallifrey.” At her sharp inhale, he explained, “When I was an Initiate at the Academy, I used to take long walks, mostly to get away from my classmates. One day, I found this dirty, rough stone along the banks of a small stream. It wasn’t much to look at, really, but something resonated in my mind and soul, and I picked it up. Washing it off, I found something similar to what on Earth might be called a fire opal. I polished it up and have kept it in my pocket ever since, through all my regenerations. And, since the War, it’s served to remind me of home, of what was important and precious.”

Donna held the pendant out by the chain. “Oh, Theta,” she cried. “It’s too much. You shouldn’t just give it away!” She tried to put it in his hand, but he closed her fingers around it.

“I don’t need a stone to tell me what is precious anymore,” he explained softly. Squeezing her hand, he gazed lovingly in her eyes. “I have **_you_**. You are the most precious thing in my life. I want you to wear the last remnant of my former life. Gallifrey is gone but I have my memories. And I am making new memories with my greatest treasure.” He took the pendant from her hand and affixed it around her neck. “My past and my future. Together.”

She leaned up and kissed his lips softly and sweetly. “Forever and always.” Then she whispered his name, his true name.

 

♪ **_On the seventh day of Christmas….._**

Donna stood with her arms folded across her chest and her feet planted firmly on the grating floor of the control room. She glared at her Time Lord husband and stated emphatically, “I don’t care that it’s the _‘Seventh Bloody Day of Christmas’_ , or that it’s New Year’s Bloody Day! I am not going **_anywhere_**! It was a very late night with all the dancing and … whatnot …” she mumbled the last word with lowered eyes and a lovely pink tinge to her cheeks. “I am tired and sore in places I forgot I **_had_** places.” 

The Doctor chuckled. “I should have warned you. Jack can be a bit enthusiastic when it comes to dancing.”

She gave him a coy smile. “You’re not so bad yourself. Your … um ... _stamina_ later was …well …” She blushed deeper and said nothing more.

He gave her a knowing, cocky grin. “Stuff of legends, me.” And he danced out of the way of the Oncoming Slap. “Donna, you’re going to love this, I promise. Please? Trust me.” He was practically bouncing with excitement.

She continued to glare at him. “Let me guess. We’re going to visit Henry VIII’s swans at Hampton court.” She grumbled to herself, “Like I need _another_ randy Lord.”

He walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “My darling wife, I would never subject you to something like that. Hal was a bit of a berk toward the end.” He cupped her cheek. “ _Do_ you trust me?”

She looked up and saw the sincerity in his eyes, and relaxed a bit. “Of course I trust you, Spaceman.” She sighed. “This had better be worth it.”

He smiled broadly and replied, “Oh, it will be.” Then he led her to the TARDIS doors and opened them with a flourish.

They walked out into small, nondescript corridor. Donna looked up at him and frowned. He smiled sweetly and whispered, “Have a little faith, my love.” Tucking her arm into his, he walked her down the hall and through a door at the far end. 

Donna found herself in a large room, with dazzling white walls and a large picture window overlooking a vast wooded area dotted with small white structures. The far end of the room was dominated by a large gold-veined white marble reception desk, and an enormous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. On the wall above the desk was the word _CYGNUS_ in gold metal letters, with the final ‘S’ a stylized swan made from tiny gold mosaic tiles.

As they approached the desk, the extremely perky young woman greeted them. “Welcome to CYGNUS Spa and Mineral Springs! How may I assist you today?”

Donna looked up at him. “A spa?” she asked.

He grinned. “I’ve attended a few of Jack’s parties, and I reckoned you might need a bit of … _recuperation_ … time.” He turned to the receptionist. “Checking in for Donna Smith-Noble.”

The young woman tapped a few keys on the touch screen in the surface of the marble desk top. “Ah, yes, Dr Smith. I see we have Mrs. Smith-Noble for the full Premium Treatment.”

“And what is that one called again?” he asked with a sly smirk.

“Oh, that is our Seven Swans Package.”

Donna laughed. “Clever, Time Boy. Very clever.”

He shrugged. “I try.”

The receptionist was completely confused but professional enough to not show it. “Mrs. Smith-Noble, if you would just sign these consent forms, we will get your spa experience started.”

As Donna signed the documents, the girl detailed the treatments the Doctor had requested for her. “Once we’re finished here, you’ll be taken down to the mineral springs for an hour-long soak, and then to the lavender and geranium sauna. Next is the full-body, deep tissue massage with fragrance oils and hot rock treatment. This is followed by the aromatherapy body wrap and apple cider facial. You will end with a mani-pedi and an avocado/olive oil conditioning and trim of your beautiful hair,” the girls finished with an appreciative sigh.

By the time the girl had finished her litany, Donna’s mouth gaped open and she squeezed the Doctor’s arm. “Oh, Spaceman. It’s too much!”

He kissed the top of her head. “Not nearly enough for my beautiful wife.” As a uniformed attendant approached, he smiled and said, “Enjoy your pampering. I’ll go on ... um ... _home_. When you’re done, give me a call and I’ll meet you back here at Reception.” Kissing her sweetly, he whispered, “Happy Seventh Day, my love.”

 

♪ **_On the eighth day of Christmas….._**

The next morning, Donna slowly came to consciousness. She opened her eyes and sighed contentedly. The experience at the spa the day before had left her practically boneless, when the Doctor came to retrieve her. He then surprised her with an intimate candlelight dinner at a restaurant in a city on a planet in a star system she couldn’t pronounce.

Their lovemaking that night was slow and sweet, tender and sensual. They were unhurried and languid, learning each other’s bodies anew. And when they were both satiated, they curled into one another, her back to his chest, her holding his hands as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She often fell asleep this way, but she rarely had the experience of hearing him snore softly in her ear, as he succumbed to sleep himself. She snuggled closer to her husband, amazed once again at her good fortune.

She rolled over, still half asleep, to find the left side of the bed both empty and cold, a sign that he had been up for a while. Which wasn’t that unusual. While they usually went to bed together, he rarely stayed the entire night. After yesterday though, she would have really enjoyed waking up in his arms. On the other hand, if the aroma of sausages and toast that were wafting through the TARDIS ventilation system were to be believed, he could be forgiven for abandoning their bed.

She stretched a bit and had just made up her mind join him in the kitchen, when the door to the bedroom opened and the Doctor entered, pushing a serving cart loaded with covered dishes, plates, utensils and tea things. He was wearing his brown pinstriped trousers and white trainers, but, instead of his usual dress shirt and jacket, he had donned a sky blue jumper. Donna definitely appreciated the way it hugged his chest as he moved.

She sat up a little straighter in bed. “What’s all this?” she asked. “Breakfast in bed? What did I do to deserve it?”

The Doctor bent down and kissed her quickly. “Nothing special. Just being you is enough. Besides, it’s the Eighth Day of Christmas.”

She gazed at him suspiciously. “I see what’s going on here,” she said with a frown. “You’re trying to soften me up. What have you got planned, Sunshine? A trip to a planet where the life forms are cows and milking is a sign of respect?!”

He stared at her, his mouth agape. “Blimey!” he responded. “What’s made you so suspicious?” He reached down to the lower shelf of the cart and produced a large bed-tray and set it up over Donna’s knees. “Nothing of the sort, love. We’re not going anywhere today. Well, nowhere outside the TARDIS.” He then retrieved a blue glass vase containing eight star-shaped white flowers. Setting it on the tray, he sat down next to her and took her hand. “These are called _‘Milkmaids’_. Aren’t they lovely? And no bovines will be involved.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Ready for breakfast?”

He jumped from the bed and handed her plates and utensils. Then, with a flourish, he proceeded to serve up two portions of scrambled eggs with cheese, herbed sausages, fried tomatoes; a real English breakfast. Pouring them each a cup of tea from the pot, he re-joined her on the bed. They tucked in and spent quite some time enjoying the food the Doctor (and the TARDIS, if he were totally honest) prepared, feeding each other morsels and talking about nothing.

Donna didn’t say anything but deep down she was ever so slightly let down that her Eighth Day present was a small bunch of, albeit pretty, wildflowers. But she rationalized that he had been incredibly creative for seven days, and have given her amazingly beautiful things and experiences, so she really had no call to be miffed. 

When they had finally finished their breakfast, the Doctor lay back against the pillows and let out a contented sigh. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could eat another bite! You?” he asked her.

She groaned. “I don’t think I’ll eat for a week! It’s a good thing we do all that running.” She leaned over and kissed him sweetly. “Thank you so much, Spaceman, for the incredible food. And the flowers are … lovely,” she said, a little weakly.

He picked up immediately on the tone of voice. Sitting up, he stared down out her for a moment, then broke out in a sly grin. “You think the flowers are your Eighth Day present, don’t you? And you’re disappointed! Yes, you are; don’t try to deny it,” he scolded, when she started to protest.

He stood up and began loading up the cart with the remains of their meal. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he chided. “This was merely the prologue.” He stacked the dishes and started to wheel the cart out of the room. He called out over his shoulder, “I’ll do the washing up. You get dressed in your most comfy, loungy-est clothes and meet me in the Control Room in fifteen minutes.” He disappeared down the hallway.

Donna was a little embarrassed that he had recognized her regret about the gift, but wasn’t surprised that he had more in store for her. He was a supremely generous person and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying these little surprises. She showered and dressed in a purple velour track suit with a black stretch camisole that had enough support that she could eschew wearing bra, which she knew would please and … move … him. She grinned saucily at that thought.

Entering the Control Room, she found the Doctor at the console, adjusting knobs and levers with great care. She watched, fascinated, as he made slow and careful adjustments. He was never that attentive or precise. She walked up to him and lightly ran her hand down his back from shoulder to waist, and was secretly pleased at the intake of breath he gave in response. “Going somewhere, Time Boy?” she asked cheekily.

He reached over and adjusted a slide lever a couple of centimetres and turned a dial anti-clockwise three ticks. “Almost done,” he replied, concentrating on the sequence he was manipulating. With a final push of a button, he declared, “There! All set!!” He turned and pulled her into his arms. “Are you ready for the second part of your gift?” he asked.

She put her hands on his chest, loving the feeling of his dual heartbeats. “I thought you said we weren’t going anywhere today,” she scolded. “I’m hardly dressed for an adventure.”

He smiled and kissed the tip of her upturned nose. “I said nowhere _outside_ the TARDIS. I never said she wasn’t going anywhere.” Breaking their embrace, he took her hand and lead her to the ship’s doors. “Close your eyes,” he instructed. When she had done so, he snapped his fingers.

Donna opened her eyes. The sight before her took her breath away. Just outside the TARDIS doors was a vast expanse of space, filled with glittering points of light and swirling colours. They were facing a cluster of stars, not quite large enough to be called a galaxy, not really a nebula either. There were eight bright stars that seemed to dance around each other in a slow, complex pattern. She looked at him, awe and confusion vying for dominance on her face.

She looked much as she did the first time they met, when he took her to see the creation of her planet. It occurred to him that he had started to fall in love with her as far back as that, seeing her reaction to that moment. He draped one arm across her shoulders and held her close. “They’re called _‘The Eight Sisters’_ or _‘The Eight Maidens’_. They do this dance once a millennium. You have to be in exactly the right quadrant of the right galaxy at this precise moment in Time to see it. Not many have.” He hugged her tighter to him. “You deserve to be one of the few.”

She put her arm around his waist and nestled into his body. He was such a romantic, the silly Martian. “I’m honoured,” she whispered.

They stood and watched the celestial bodies manoeuver around each other, twinkling and throwing off colourful sparks. Finally, the light show diminished as the stars drifted into a different orbit, and the Doctor closed the doors.

Donna was overwhelmed at the scope of the extraordinary measures he had taken for her. She followed him over to the console and waited as he sent them into the Vortex to drift. She opened her mouth to thank him when he put his finger up and said, “Wait. There’s one more little thing.” As she began to protest, he reached under the console and came back with a flat gold box with the name of a very well-known chocolatier. 

“Chocolate!?” she squealed.

“Open it.”

Lifting the lid, she saw eight squares of milk chocolate, 5 centimetres to a side, and 2 centimetres thick, each decorated with a dark chocolate figure, four with a girl’s head and four with a cow, all extremely detailed. She giggled at the sight of them. “Theta, where did you get these?”

He grinned. “Do you like them? I had them specially made. 43rd Century Belgium. They still make them by hand to order. I created the mould, so there are no others like them in all of Time and Space.”

She put the lid back on the box and carefully set it on the jumpseat. Snaking her arms around his neck, she whispered, “This was so much better than milking alien cows.” And proceeded to stifle his laughter with her lips and tongue. After several minutes of energetic snogging, they broke apart, mostly due to the fact that Donna had no respiratory bypass.

“Happy Eighth Day of Christmas, wife,” he growled.  
.  
“So what do you have planned for the rest of the day, husband?” she asked, pressing herself against his rather insistent form.

He sighed heavily into her hair and stuttered, “Um, well, nothing else, really.” He paused to let his breathing return to normal. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”

She stepped away from him and slowly unzipped the purple velour jacket, letting it slide off her shoulders and onto the grating floor, revealing the black spaghetti-strap camisole. Taking a deep breath with purpose, she cooed, “Might have a couple of ideas,” and she put out her hand.

He almost tripped over himself reaching for her. She laughed and dragged him down the hallway to their bedroom.

 

♪ **_On the ninth day of Christmas….._**

When Donna first joined the Doctor on his adventures, she never imagined that there were so many planets in the Universe that had, as its primary form of natural defence, goo! Goo in all colours. Goo of varying consistencies and textures. Goo that washed off easily and goo that had to be sonically blasted off in a special chamber in the TARDIS. And what infuriated her to no end was the fact that the Doctor always somehow managed to be just to the side of the trajectory! Every time!! He must have some sort of Time Lord early warning system about Oncoming Goo that he didn’t see the need to share with her. Bloody alien!

She bounded through the TARDIS doors and squelched across the floor, dropping glops of iridescent pale blue gelatine on the grate. The Doctor sauntered in after her and called out as she stomped through the Control Room. “Donnnaaaa,” he whined. “It’s just a little harmless protein. It’s not toxic. It won’t even stain your skin or your clothes. In fact, the locals harvest it as the basis for their cosmetics. It has moisturizing properties that are renowned in this quadrant of the galaxy!”

She stopped and wheeled about, glaring at him. Flinging a handful of the aforementioned substance in his general direction, she snapped, “Good to know, Sunshine. Now I’m going to shower and change. And there had better be tea and cake waiting for me when I get back. And not that banana rubbish you like. A right proper chocolate cake. You got that, husband?!”

“Yes, dear,” he answered meekly, hoping to assuage her ire.

Donna turned and continued down the hall, muttering to herself about alien muck. She stripped, dropping her soiled clothes in a heap on the floor, sending the TARDIS a psychic apology for the mess and adding a thought or two about insensitive Time Lords. The ship laughed in her head.

**‘Do not be angry with My Thief. He loves you very much, and we try to take you to exciting places.**

Donna sighed. ‘I know. And I love him, more than you can imagine. But sometimes he is just so … **_oblivious!_** ’

**‘He is a Time Lord. He sees the Universe with different eyes and perspective. **YOU** are his anchor and the voice of reason. Two parts of a whole.’**

Donna smiled. Trust the TARDIS to put her gently in her place. _‘You always take his side,’_ she huffed teasingly. 

**‘No. There is no “his” or “hers”. Only “yours”. The Doctor-Donna. My Thief and My Lady.’**

Donna knew she would never win an argument with the sentient ship. _‘Alright. I’ll be nice to him, the daft prawn.’_ She stepped into the already-running shower and saw a bottle of the shampoo/body wash that she found was the most effective at removing alien slime. Popping open the top, she noticed immediately that, instead of being unscented as usual, the Old Girl had added a very sensual fragrance, a mixture of pomegranate, cassis, sandalwood, blackberry, jasmine and anise. It improved her mood immeasurably, and she was grateful to her for it. 

Donna took her time in the shower, scrubbing every part of her thoroughly and washing her hair until it squeaked. After applying and rinsing the matching conditioner, she finally felt she was ready to face her husband. She knew an apology was in order, but she was a proud woman and hated appearing weak in front of him. But, as Idris had reminded her, he loved her and was only trying to please her.

She wrapped herself in her warmest fleece dressing gown and slippers – the TARDIS was always a touch too cold for her taste – and stepped out into their bedroom. The room was filled with a delicate sound that she hadn’t heard when she entered the en-suite earlier. There were tiny tinkling notes, like strings being plucked by tiny hands. She looked around, trying to identify the source of the music.

All of a sudden, she spied it. Sitting in a dark corner on a small occasional table was a large music box. She approached it cautiously but with great interest. As she got closer, the details became clearer and, crying out, she raced over and picked up the object. She had a hard time seeing it clearly, for the tears that sprang to her eyes.

The box was a wooden rectangle, twenty-five centimetres by twenty centimetres, with gilded moulding along the bottom and a hinged, similarly moulded top. It was intricately carved with vines and flowers, painted in soft shades of pink, lavender, yellow and green. With the top open, music filled the room with its gentle tones. It wasn’t a melody she was familiar with, but it stirred her soul.

Hearing a soft footfall behind her, she turned to find the Doctor standing quietly in the doorway. She held the music box out to him and stammered, “Oh, Theta. How …? Where did …? I haven’t ... you couldn’t …” She finally just let the tears fall and stared at him, clutching the box to her chest.

He walked slowly over to her and took the box from her hand, setting it back down on the table, and pulled her to him. She wept for a few moments and he crooned soft words to her, stroking her hair and holding her tightly. He was inundated with the fragrance of her hair, and willed himself not to respond as his body was aching to do – now was not the time. When her sobs began to subside, he loosened his grip and looked down at her, raising one hand to wipe away her tears. 

“Hey, hey. What brought this on?” he asked. This wasn’t the reaction he expected. “Don’t cry, love. If you don’t like it, I’ll get rid of it!”

Donna pulled away from him and grabbed the box. “Don’t you dare!” She hugged it to her. “I just don't understand. This is the music box my Gramps and Nan gave me when I was fourteen. I had this daft idea that I wanted to be a ballerina. I went to the local dance studio near where we lived and asked about taking lessons.” She bent her head and her still-damp hair obscured her face. “Turns out that girls with my ...uh ... _build_... don’t make very good ballet dancers. I was crushed. Mum gave me her mother’s version of _‘I told you so’_ , which didn't make me feel any better. Nan and Gramps took me to the shops and got me this box. Told me to never give up on my dreams.”

She raised her head again and stared at him, confusion clouding her eyes. “This was destroyed when we moved flats when I was eighteen. One of Dad’s football mates was helping shift boxes and, as usual, he was faffing about and dropped the box it was in. It bounced down the stairs and smashed at the bottom. To make it worse, when he tried to pickup the pieces, he stepped on the little ballerina that danced in the middle, crushing her completely. How is this possible, Doctor? How is it here? Please tell me you didn’t go back in time and prevent Uncle Trevor from dropping it!!” she exclaimed.

Her use of his old title disturbed him greatly. In an attempt to reassure her, he declared, “I would _never_ do anything as reckless as going back on someone’s timeline!” She looked at him with eyebrows raised. “Well, not intentionally.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, if I tried, you’d stop me before I did something incredibly stupid.”

He reached over and took the box from her and led her over to the loveseat that the TARDIS had supplied. When she was comfortable, he set the box on her knee. “No, Donna. I’m sorry but it’s not your music box. Look at it closely.”

At first glance, it seemed to her to be an exact copy of her beloved possession. But after his request, she realized that the box itself was actually quite a bit larger than she remembered. And the melody was different. There were also coloured emerald-cut gems, bezel-set two to a side, that she didn’t remember being on the original. But the most obvious difference was the main figure in the centre. Instead of the usual thin blonde ballerina standing en pointe in a pale pink tutu, the woman was a more voluptuous creature with bright ginger hair pulled into a tail, wearing a purple toga, with arms outstretched, as if reaching for the stars. Donna was overwhelmed at the sight.

The Doctor smiled. “I’ve always loved you in that dress.” He urged her on. “Press the button.”

At her touch, the eight gems lit up and each projected a holographic image of a ballerina. They all danced to the cadence of the music the box played. Donna laughed with delight. “The _‘nine ladies dancing’_ , I take it,” she remarked with a smile. “The music is lovely but I don’t recognize it. What is it?”

He paused before he answered. “That’s an old melody from my childhood. My mother was a bit of a psychic healer. You know the expression _‘Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast’?_ Well, she literally could. That one was special only to me. She would hold me in her lap – long past the acceptable age – and sing it to me when I had a particularly wretched time at the Academy.” He dropped his head as he remembered, with a touch of sorrow, the woman who made his childhood bearable.

Putting the box down, she leaned over and raised her hand to cup his face. “I am honoured that you would share such a precious memory with me. And I don’t know how you found out about the box or how you were able to recreate it so accurately, and I don’t care. All I know is that you are the most wonderful, thoughtful husband anyone could ever have, and I am the luckiest woman in the Universe.”

He stood up and drew he close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “It was mostly Sylvia’s idea, actually. I had asked her if she thought you’d like a music box and she told me the whole story. She was incredibly helpful, dredging up photos of you and the original box. I just took it from there.” He kissed her hair and said, “I’m the lucky one. You’ve saved my life in so many ways, and make me happier than I deserve to feel.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.

Donna increased the pressure and they stood there, expressing their love with lips and tongues and deep sighs. While the Doctor was distracted, she lowered one hand and untied the belt of the dressing gown and let it fall open. After a few moments, he became aware that there was less of a barrier between them than had been there previously. Breaking the kiss, he glanced down and saw Donna’s state of undress, his breath caught in this throat, and he groaned.

Donna smiled coyly and stepped back from him. She reached over to the music box and wound the key. Then she put out her hand and led him over to their bed, intending to thank him as thoroughly as she could for his incredible Ninth Day gift. And he was perfectly willing to accept her thanks, and reciprocate, many times over, if he had anything to say about it!

 

♪ **_On the tenth day of Christmas….._**

“You know,” Donna mused, sitting on the jumpseat as she watched the Doctor at the console. “A girl could really get used to this.”

“To what?” he asked absentmindedly, making adjustments.

“You, in a tux. And me, dressed all posh. What is this? Twice in one week?”

He glanced over at her swinging her feet as she sat. She was wearing a multi-jewel-toned sheer lace tunic over a royal blue sleeveless dress. One velvet flat shoe dangled from her toes. She looked as adorably girlish as she was desirable. It was a heady thing, that combination. Which was why he kept himself busy at the console, else he knew they would never make it to their destination.

When he didn’t respond, she asked a different question. “So, where are we going?”

He turned back to the console. “It’s a surprise,” he stated firmly.

“Alright then, _when_ are we going?”

He resolutely refused to look at her. “That’s a surprise too.”

Donna hated it when he got stubborn/clever like this, especially when it was preventing _her_ from getting something she wanted, in this case, information. She slid down off the jumpseat and sashayed over to where he stood. She raised a finger to his cheek and slowly drew it southward, lightly gliding over his cheek, down his throat and across the front of his collar, settling on his ultra-sensitive Adam’s apple. She knew exactly what she was doing.

And so did he. He grabbed her hand, kissed the knuckles and said, “There’s be time enough for _that_ later. We don’t want to be late.”

She pouted a little and begged, “Please, Theta? What harm could there be in knowing the date?”

He gave her a sly smile. “Fair enough. December 21.”

She slapped his arm. “Prawn. What year?”

“Can’t say. It would spoil the surprise.” He smirked at her indignant stance.

She glared at him a moment, and then realized he was not going to relent. Resigned, she stepped away from him. “Fine,” she huffed. “Well, can we get on with it? _‘Allons-y’_ and all that?”

He laughed heartily. Taking her hand, he led her toward the doors, stopping at the coatrack to retrieve a faux-fur wrap for her and a black overcoat – which looked remarkably like his brown duster – for himself. He then opened the doors and they exited the ship.

It was after sunset and the air was brisk. The TARDIS had landed them in a less-than-populated side street. Donna looked around, trying to get some feel for their location. Breathing in, she assessed the smell of the air, finding it somewhat familiar. Glancing up at the Doctor, she furrowed her brow. “Earth?” she asked. He gave her a half-smile and nodded.

He tucked her arm in his and they walked down the street. She could see a little more of the city and was intrigued. The first things that caught her eye were the automobiles. They were models that she remembered from her childhood, but hadn’t seen in years. “So,” she mused, indicating the passing autos. “The past then. But not too long ago.” He just grinned. She took that as a challenge.

They reached the end of the street and more of the city was evident. She stopped and scanned her surroundings, trying to get a fix on when and where they were. Suddenly, she caught sight of something in the distance: a tall white obelisk that stood out against the evening sky. She stared at it in disbelief, pulled away from the Doctor and sputtered, “That’s ... Isn’t that? ... It can’t be! Really? That’s the bloody Washington Monument!! Theta, are we in America?!?”

He laughed. “That’s my brilliant girl. Yes, we’re in that nation’s capital.”

She was both confused and delighted. “What are we doing in Washington, D.C. in evening clothes?”

He re-gripped her arm and led her down the street. “Taking in a show. What else?”

She noticed they were joined on the sidewalk by other couples and groups heading toward a large rectangular building. She could see its lights reflecting on the waters of the nearby Potomac River. But it wasn’t until they had turned the corner and she could see the front of the building that she began to suspect the nature of The Doctor’s surprise. Emblazoned on the white edifice were the words, in black letters, _The John F. Kennedy Memorial Center for the Performing Arts’_.

She looked up at him and said quietly, “What year is this?”

He could sense the slow churning of her mind, mulling over the information she had gleaned at their approach. He leaned down and whispered, “1976.”

She stopped him and stared. “The Kennedy Center. December 21, 1976. Oh, my god.” She looked in the direction in which he pointed, to a banner advertising the evening’s performance: _The American Ballet Theater presents ‘ **The Nutcracker’**_ with a picture of one of the world’s most famous dancers. “Theta?” she whispered, with tears forming in her eyes. “What have you done?”

He didn’t answer but gave her a quick hug and led her over to the queue of people gathering at the entrance. She expected him to flash his psychic paper as he usually did, so she was stunned when, as they entered, he produce actual tickets.

She got an even bigger shock as the ticket-taker began to fawn over them. “Oh, Dr. Smith. You should have come in the VIP entrance.” He called an usher over. “Martin, would you please show Dr. Smith and his wife to the Director’s Box and see that they are taken care of.”

Martin snapped to attention. “Right this way, sir and madam.” And he led them to a private box with a magnificent view of the stage.

After Donna had gotten settled in her seat, she turned to her husband and said, “We had a videotape copy of this production when I was growing up. I almost wore it out from watching it so much. It’s one of my fondest memories of Christmas as a child. How did you know?”

He took her hand and kissed it. “Just a bit of deductive reasoning. After learning of your aspirations to be a dancer, and the time period in which you grew up, it was only logical that you would have seen this production. What better way to celebrate the _Tenth Day of Christmas_ than seeing most renowned performance of _‘The Nutcracker’_ , in person? Misha’s an old friend and pulled a few strings to get us the tickets. I hadn’t really expected the box, though.”

“Misha?” She stared at him. “Not ...?”

He chuckled. “The same. I was one of the first to advise him to defect.”

At that moment, the usher parted the curtain at the rear of the box and entered. He was carrying a long box, which he handed to Donna. “Mr. Baryshnikov hopes you will enjoy the performance, and requests that you join him afterwards for a late supper. I’ll return at that time to escort you backstage.” He bowed and exited.

Donna opened the box. Inside was a single rose, an unusual shade of vibrant orange, with a handwritten note that read:

_“For the one who has stolen the Doctor’s heart. Fire for fire. I greatly anticipate meeting the woman who brings such joy to my dear friend. With much affection, Misha.”_

Donna carefully lifted the flower and inhaled the heady fragrance. The Doctor picked up the note and chuckled as he read it. “Such the romantic, Misha. I’d best be careful, or he’ll steal you away.”

She lay the flower back down in its box and reached for his hand. “Not a chance, Spaceman. He’s got nothing on you. Now hush,” she said, as the lights began to dim and the music started. “I've got some _‘lords a-leaping_ to watch!”

 

♪ **_On the eleventh day of Christmas….._**

Donna sat quietly on a bench in the Council Room in the capital city on the planet Garzed. The Doctor had received an urgent message on his psychic paper when they returned from Washington, D.C. His help was needed to prevent an invasion by a neighbouring planet, the government of which being bent on annexing Garzed for their own purposes. The Doctor was an old hand stopping invasions, especially by peaceful means, so it was logical for the Garzedii to ask for his intervention. Since he was sure it was going to be a routine negotiation, she suggested she stay behind in the TARDIS and get some rest or do a bit of tidying up. But he wouldn’t hear of it.

“Theta,” she protested. “I’ll be useless there. The Garzedii are patriarchial; women have no place in government.”

“Ah, well, I told them I need you there for psychic strength. They respect the role their women play in supporting and stabilizing the emotional state of their male counterparts,” he explained. “Besides, I like having you there, even if you’re just sitting and looking gorgeous!” He laughed as she simultaneously blushed and swatted his arm.

So that is what she was doing, sitting and looking gorgeous. It gave her time to think over the prior evening’s events. The performance of _‘The Nutcracker’_ was everything she remembered from her childhood, and seeing it in person was incredible. She was almost overwhelmed later, when they were taken backstage and met Mikhail Baryshnikov, especially at this young and enthusiastic stage in his life. He was charming and charismatic and quite funny. Over supper, he told a few tales of exploits with the Doctor in Russia that had the Time Lord blushing and protesting his innocence.

Later, the Doctor took her to a nearby hotel where he had made a reservation for the night. It was the first time, since their marriage, that they had spent the night away from the TARDIS. She was nervous at first, but he proceeded to allay her fears and drive anything other than his physical attentions from her mind. She shivered at the memory.

Soon, her husband came strolling up to her, looking smug, and held out his hand. “You look like the cat that got the cream. Crisis averted, I take it.”

He shrugged. “It was a simple matter of making the Torqellots realize that Garzed had superior firepower – which it doesn’t really, but they didn’t know that – and showing everyone the advantages of trade and a mutual non-aggression pact. It was a piece of cake.”

“You are far too pleased with yourself, you know. It’s unbecoming.” She tried to sound stern, hoping he wouldn’t catch the hint of breathiness in her voice. His nonchalant masterfulness always made her insides tingle.

He leered and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I know you love it, you little minx.”

At that moment, Helkir, the Garzeddi Lord Councillor, approached them and, with a deep bow, inquired if they would be so kind as to join him and Torqell Ambassador for the evening meal. The Doctor explained politely that he and his wife had a previous engagement and would have to be on their way. Helkir thanked him again for his great assistance.

As they left the government building and headed back to the TARDIS, Donna ventured, “We really don’t have a previous engagement. You just didn’t want to have dinner with them, did you?”

He chuckled. “If you had ever seen the Garzedii eat, you’d be glad I declined. Having an extra set of arms does not make them particularly neat. And for your information, missy, we certainly _do_ have a previous engagement. There’s a little thing called _The Eleventh Day of Christmas_ still pending.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I had forgotten about that.”

“Well, I haven’t.” They reached the ship and he opened the door. “Now, inside and go get ready.”

“Get ready for _what_?” she mumbled, but she knew better than to ask the question aloud. She headed to their bedroom and went to shower. She assumed he was taking her somewhere since he instructed her to change out of her tunic and jeans. And she had learned over the last ten days that he was ultra-imaginative and creative in his gift giving. So, as she stood beneath the warm spray, she tried to prepare herself for any possibility.

Once she had finished her ablutions, she stepped back into the bedroom and stopped short. Hanging from the door of the wardrobe was a beautiful pleated plaid skirt, white shirt and black velvet blazer. A long sash in the same plaid lay on the bed. She wasn’t sure exactly sure where this was all heading, but she had to admit, he had great taste in clothing!

She went about her routine, taking special care with her hair and makeup, making sure to use a liberal amount of the fragrance that was the Doctor’s particular favourite. She chose her most alluring white lace undergarments and chose matching suspenders and white stockings to wear with the sensible black pumps the TARDIS had paid out for her. _‘Give the boy a little surprise for later,’_ she thought saucily.

Taking one last look at her ensemble, she walked back out to the control room to wait for the Doctor. He wasn’t long in coming, and the sight of him made her mouth go dry and her heart pound. He was in formal Highland attire: black Prince Charlie jacket with tails, a short front, straight sleeves with no cuff and silver buttons, unbuttoned in front, and a matching black waistcoat; a kilt in a predominantly red plaid with green, blue and black, and a white dress shirt with a black bow tie. He had a leather sporran hanging in front, and laced ghillie brogues over knee-length hose and garter flashers. He was magnificent.

Donna stared. And stared. And licked her lips. And stared some more. He stood there, a lopsided grin on his face, and waited patiently as she drank in her fill of his appearance. Finally, she let out the breath she was unknowingly holding and shook her head. “Well, you don’t clean up half bad, do you, Spaceman?” She slowly walked over to him and ran her hands down his lapels.

She noticed that her skirt and shawl were of the same tartan as his kilt. “So what’s with the plaids? Please don't tell me we’re going to meet Bonnie Prince Charlie or something!”

He laughed and took her hands. “No, it’s the wrong period, for one. And that would have been a Stewart plaid. I borrowed this one from a friend of mine from your time period. Really nice chap named McDonald. The TARDIS recreated the tartan for your outfit.”

“Well, I certainly can’t fault your taste. So what’s this all about? I gather we’re headed for Scotland for some reason, and you’re not going to tell me until we get there. So are we ready?”

The Doctor laughed again and put out his arm. “Would you care to join me, Mrs. Smith-Noble?”

She took his arm. “Lay on, McDuff,” she answered with a grin.

The TARDIS had landed in a small close and, when they reached the main street, Donna recognized that they were standing on the Royal Mile in the city of Edinburgh. The Castle was to their left, and there was a large crowd of people streaming toward the entrance to the grandstands. The Doctor took her hand and threaded their way to the front, where he handed the young man at the turnstile a packet of papers. They were immediately taken aside and led through a series of stairways to what Donna, knowing the Doctor and his recent history of showing off for her benefit, could only imagine was a VIP section.

Just how Important this section was she would never have believed possible. The waiting area above the seats was filled with people. The Doctor took her hand and headed toward a group of people standing in the middle of the room. As they approached, one man caught sight of them and excused himself. Putting out his hand, he said, “Doctor, welcome to Edinburgh.”

The Doctor shook his hand. “Donald, it is my pleasure. Please allow me to introduce my wife, Donna Smith-Noble. Donna, this is Donald Wilson, the Lord Provost of Edinburgh. We are his guests tonight.”

“I am honoured, Lord Provost,” she said shyly.

“Donald, please. Your husband has given invaluable assistance to my city in the past and we are all extremely grateful. I hope you enjoy the show. But excuse me. Duty calls.” He bowed and rejoined his entourage.

“That was the bloody Lord Provost of Edinburgh!” she hissed into the Doctor’s ear. “We’re in bloody Edinburgh, at the bloody Tattoo in full Highland bloody dress! I suppose a little local pipe-and-drum band wasn’t good enough for your _‘Eleventh Day’_ present.” She tried to sound indignant, but it was spoiled by the giggles that bubbled up in her throat.

He giggled back at her. “I guess there’s a little more than the traditional eleven, but it’s such an amazing event. I know you’re going to love it.”

She squeezed his arm and leaned into him. “I already love it. And I love you, you mad, silly, extravagant show-off. Take me to my seat, husband. The pipes are calling to me.” _‘And just wait until you see what’ll be calling **you** later, Sunshine,’_ she thought to him, feeling the tops of her stocking brush her thighs.

He glanced over and saw her coy smile and the slight tinge of pink on her cheeks. He swallowed to dampen his immediate reaction, and then escorted her down the stairs of the grandstand to their seats. 

 

♪ **_On the twelfth day of Christmas….._**

The Doctor strode into the kitchen after securing the Interspacial Particle Gammatron in the storage area behind the third wardrobe. They had relieved the Jetrillian army of it that morning, after the TARDIS put them down on the tenth moon of Jetrillarchus. They arrived just in time to prevent a global disaster that would have left the moon devastated and the inhabitants sterile.

He found Donna busy at the counter, putting together the making for tea. He walked over to her and kissed her cheek. “What’s all this?” he asked, somewhat stupidly if he had thought about it.

She looked up at him and replied, perfectly deadpan, “I’m rebuilding a combustion engine.” When he stared at her with a confused look on his face, she shook her head. “I’m making tea, you prawn.”

“Isn’t this a little ... formal?” he asked, noting that, instead of a couple of mugs and tea bags, she had set out a tray with the porcelain tea service they had gotten for a wedding present and plates of his banana bread and fresh cranberry scones.

She smiled softly and replied, “I just thought it would be nice to take our tea in the lounge for a change. You know, relax and maybe have a talk. No rushing here and there. Just sitting together.”

“Of course, my love,” he agreed, still a little confused but willing to go along. “That would be lovely.” He picked up the loaded tray and gestured for her to precede him.

They entered the lounge and he set the tray on the occasional table in front of the loveseat. The TARDIS had started a small cosy fire and the lights were at a comfortably low level. When they had gotten settled, Donna turned to the Doctor and said, “Theta, I wanted to tell you how much I have appreciated and enjoyed these last eleven days. I know I protested at the beginning, but you have made me feel so loved and so cherished with your gifts. I love every one of the places you’ve taken me, the people we’ve met, and especially the gifts you have given me.” She fingered the five-band ring as she spoke.

“I loved doing it. You deserve all that and so much more. And we still have one last one, you know.”

She reached for his hand. “Yeah, well, about that. You see, I’ve been thinking, and I decided that it’s my turn. That the _‘Twelfth Day of Christmas’_ is for me to give something back to **_you_!** ” She raised up a finger to silence his protest. “You have to let me do this. It’s important. Please.”

She looked so beautiful sitting there, he realized, gazing at him so guilelessly and open, imploring him. He was reluctant at the best of time to refuse her a request, but when she touched his soul with just a look like this, he was powerless to deny her. “Whatever you want, love. But you’re still getting the last gift.”

“Of course,” she responded, “but mine first.” She put her hand in her pocket and came out with a small box wrapped in silver foil paper, and handed it to him. He took it and, like the child he was, held it to his ear and shook it to see if he could detect the contents. She swatted his arm and demanded, “Oh, just open it, Time Boy! Bloody two-year-old,” she muttered.

He grinned as he ripped the paper to shreds enthusiastically, to reveal a plain brown box. He threw off the lid and reached inside, pulling out a small digital voice recorder. He stared at it a moment and then turned to her, eyeing her quizzically. She reached over and pushed the _‘Play’_ button.

From the mechanism came an odd sound: **_RUM pum pum pum.....RUM pum pum pum.....RUM pump pum pum._** The sound of four distinct drum beats, repeated twice more, equalling twelve beats.

The Doctor went pale, paler than normal, his eyes wide in shock and his freckles standing out sharply against his face as it drained of colour. He dropped the recorder on the loveseat and jumped up. “That,” he stammered, fear tingeing his voice. “Those beats .... The Master ....” He turned and stared at Donna. “Those are the drums the Master always heard! Why the hell would you give me this?!?!? What the bloody hell are you playing at?!?!”

Donna stood up and put both hands on his face. “Look at me, Theta. The Master’s dead. You know that. His ashes and his signet ring are both secured in stasis in the deepest vault the TARDIS could fashion.” She kissed him tenderly and led him back to the loveseat. Picking up the recorder, she rewound the recording and said, “Listen closer, Spaceman,” and she pressed _‘Play’_ again.

Her kiss had calmed him sufficiently that he noticed the difference in the sound. This time, he heard a rhythmic **_BOOM boom boom BOOM..... BOOM boom boom BOOM..... BOOM boom boom BOOM_.** Having gotten over his initial fright, he was becoming intrigued at her ‘gift’. He narrowed his eyes and his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the significance of the beats. After a moment, he turned to her and mused, “Those sound like _wadaiko_ , the instruments used in a form of _taiko_ drumming called _kumi-daiko_.” He beamed at her. “Are we going to Sado Island?! I’ve always wanted to see Kodo!!”

She shook her head and smiled at his obvious joy. “No, we’re not going to Japan, although you are closer than you think with ‘Kodo’*.” She hit _‘Rewind’_ one last time. “Concentrate,” and she held the recorder out for him to take.

Holding the mechanism in his hand, he pushed the button and sound filled the room once again. This time, the rhythm was slightly different: **_THUMP thump THUMP thump..... THUMP thump THUMP thump..... THUMP thump THUMP thump_**. Something stirred in him, but he couldn’t quite place it. He looked at her, confused and concerned, knowing he was missing something important and obvious.

Donna covered her face with her hand, exasperated. _‘What did I tell you?’_ she groused to the ship. _‘Oblivious!!’_ “ _ **SO**_ like a man,” she grumbled. “Here.” Grabbing his hand, she place it on her abdomen and opened her mind wide to him.

Immediately, he heard the beats, clearly and distinctly. He started and pulled his hand away when he felt the vague stirrings of two tiny minds. They were very young, immature murmurings, feelings more than thoughts. He stared at her and asked, _‘Donna??’_

She smiled and replaced his hand, holding it to her. _‘Yes, my love?’_

_‘H...H...How?’_ he stammered.

She giggled and replied cheekily, “I could draw you a picture to explain the mechanics, but I think, with all the practice we’ve been having lately, you can probably figure that part out!”

He ignored her teasing and slowly moved his fingers lightly over her fabric-covered belly. “How long have you known?” he asked seriously.

She shivered slightly at the touch of his fingers. “Almost twelve weeks now,” she answered. “I felt it the minute it happened. Those basket swings in the trees on Raskoreth.” She blushed a deep pink.

The memory made him blush a little too and he chuckled. “Ah, yes. **_THAT_** weekend.” He grew serious. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” he asked, pouting ever so slightly.

She squeezed his hand. “I was a little afraid, to be honest. Given my age and the unknown quality of a Time Lord-Human pregnancy, I wanted to make sure everything was well established and there were no complications in the offing. I went to see Martha as soon as I suspected, and she gave me a clean bill of health.”

Knowing he was disappointed that she would keep something so important from him, she kissed his lips softly. “I was going to tell Christmas night after we left Mum’s, but you got me so ... _distracted_... that I fell asleep before I could. And the next day you started that whole _‘Twelve Days of Christmas’_ , I couldn’t bring myself to spoil your fun. Gradually, I came up with this _‘Twelfth Day’_ idea. I’m just so sorry I scared you at first.

He drew her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “I shouldn’t have reacted so,” he whispered. “I know you would never hurt me like that.” He leaned down and kissed her deeply. Suddenly, he sat up and looked at her, once again confused.

“Theta, what is it?”

“There’s one thing I don’t understand. How were you able to keep it from me for so long? I should have been able to sense the presence of new life forms. At the very least, I should have been able to taste the chemical changes in your body, on your skin, in your saliva, and ... ah ... um ... your other .. _.juices_.”

Donna blushed, both at his reference and her answer. “Well, Idris understood my wanting to keep it secret. She gave me this.” And she handed the Doctor a thin gold bracelet that he had seen her wearing recently. “It’s a biodamper. Can’t imagine where she got the idea,” she smirked. “It disguised the chemical changes, as you so romantically put it. And we both had a talk with the little ones and created a shield so you wouldn’t ‘hear’ them. They are going to be handful, I can tell already. Far too much like their daddy, I think.”

Daddy.

He was going to be a daddy.

His hearts started to pound and the blood rushed to his head. The next thing he knew he was lying on the loveseat with his feet elevated and a cold, wet flannel on his forehead. He started to sit up and felt a hand gently holding him down.

“Whoa there, Sunshine. You just lay there for a while.”

He thought that would probably be a good idea. He covered the hand on his chest and asked, “Donna, what happened?”

She leaned over, as she knelt on the floor beside him, smiled and replied quietly, “You fainted, my silly Spaceman. I guess the idea of being a father again was a little too much for you.” She removed the flannel and helped him sit up slowly. Sitting down next to him, she ran her fingers over his cheek. “The twins think it’s hilarious, by the way.”

He stared at her, awe, joy and fear warring for possession of his face. He stared intently at her. “I’m going to be a father,” he stated flatly.

Donna was becoming a little concerned at his lack of response. Maybe the idea of having children was not the gift she had thought it would be. Then she remembered his initial reaction to Jenny. Could he possibly think that the babies were some kind of hybrid, that they were an aberration like Neverweres? Suddenly, her Christmas surprise didn’t seem like such a grand idea.

She sat back, all the elation gone. “Theta,” she whispered quietly. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think. We never talked about children. I wasn’t sure it was even possible. But I assumed that you’d be pleased by the idea, if it happened. I let my own selfish wish for motherhood cloud my judgment. I never once took into consideration your feelings. The idea of having Time Lord blood tainted by a mere Human is probably abhorrent to you. I’ll understand if you want me to leave, that I should go back to Chiswick.” She looked up at him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

The Doctor shook himself out of his own thoughts. He had vaguely heard what she was saying. But the words _‘go back to Chiswick’_ registered. He saw she was crying heavily, and he pulled her onto his lap. “Oh, Donna. Oh, my love. No! You can’t go back home! I won’t let you!!”

She wept into his chest. “I don’t want to. But I don’t want to burden you with something that is repugnant to you.”

“What are you talking about, woman?” He stroked her hair and kissed her temple, trying to calm her enough to figure out what had happened.

“You,” she replied with a cry. “You got all serious and silent. I thought you’d be happy about the news.” She sobbed. “I’m sorry I overstepped my boundaries.”

She felt his laughter rumbling in his chest against her cheek. “Oh, _cariad_. There are no boundaries between us anymore. I’m sorry I didn’t respond at first. I was overwhelmed. That was shock, pure Dad shock on my part. I never thought about being a father again. I never looked for it, and never imagined I’d ever meet anyone that I would want to share that experience with ever again.”

He sat her up next to him. “Parenthood is an unusual thing in Time Lord society. For millions of years, we were under a curse of physical sterility, unable to procreate in a natural way. Children were created in Looms, using the genetic material from both parents. And not everyone was allowed the privilege of Looming. Time Lords and their offspring were bonded, but not in the same way as Humans are to their children. ”

He stopped and smiled at her, taking her hands and kissing them, one at a time. “I never, in all my countless years and limitless travels, imagined that I could ever become a father in the natural way. And you, my dearest darling wife, have made a very old Time Lord happier than he ever thought was possible. So no more talk of leaving, and Chiswick, and boundaries. Everything I am and all that I have is yours. And I am honoured that you would want to bear my children.”

He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I love you. And I love them too.” He leaned over and, moving her shirt aside, dropped a kiss on her bare skin. He chuckled as he felt the merest hint of a flutter, the tiniest touch of a mind in his. “They seem to like when I do this,” he said, kissing her skin again. Donna shivered and her breath caught in her throat at his touch. “Looks like their mother does too,” he added, with a saucy grin.

“Their father had best stop that, or else be prepared to finish what he’s started.” She ran her hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp with her nails, a move she knew always got a reaction from him. This time was no exception. He growled into her belly and began to replace the soft kisses with sensuous licks.

Quite a while later, the two were entwined with each other on the fur rug that Idris had thoughtfully provided in front of the fire, the velour throw from the loveseat covering their nakedness, basking in the proverbial afterglow of the spontaneous and thoroughly satisfying lovemaking that left them sated and exhausted and happier than they could ever remember.

Donna lay with her head on the Doctor’s chest, listening to his dual heartbeats, and he had his arms around her, with one hand resting on her abdomen. He breathed in the scent from her hair and sighed, contented. Just when he thought she was asleep, she stirred slightly and whispered, “Didn’t you say something earlier about a _‘Twelfth Day’_ gift for me, husband? Just because you’re going to be a father doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for that! I can’t wait to see what you’ve come up with for _‘drummers drumming’_. She giggled, “Although, if we’re going anywhere, we’ll have to get dressed first!”

He chuckled in response. “Actually, I thought, after the Tattoo, you’d probably have had your fill of drums.” He sat up and stretched out, reaching for his trousers, which lay quite a ways away, where they had been thrown in his enthusiasm. Donna gazed lovingly and a little lustfully at the expanse of his bare flank. She reached out and ran a fingernail up his thigh and laughed as he squealed and swatted her hand away.

“Stop that, you minx!! Or you won’t get your present. Now, who’s distracting whom?!?” She leaned back, still laughing, and raised her hands in surrender. He grinned and handed her a small jewellery box. “I went for something a little different. I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” She opened the box and lifted the contents up to the light. It was a sterling silver bracelet, with twelve cloisonné charms. She fingered each one and remembered the gift it represented: a lavender pear, a white dove, a book, a coloured bird, a jewelled gold ring, an egg, a swan, a star, a ballerina, a nutcracker, a piper, and a drum. She leaned over and kissed him sweetly. “Thank you, my love. It’s a beautiful remembrance of the best Christmas I have ever had.”

She handed it to him and out put her arm, for him to clasp on her wrist. When he didn’t move right away, she asked, “Theta? What’s wrong?”

He looked over at her, and she saw the tears in his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. Just look.” He held out the bracelet for her to see. She didn’t notice the difference at first, then tears sprang to her eyes as well. The drum charm was gone and hanging in its place were two tiny prams, one pink and one blue. They both realized that the TARDIS had amended his gift to include her gift to him. He drew the chain over her wrist and fastened it.

“Merry _‘Twelfth Day of Christmas’_ , Mummy.”

“And to you, Daddy. I love you.”

And the two tiny Time Babies giggled to themselves, as the TARDIS crooned them to sleep.

To all my friends, and everyone everywhere:

“I’m offering this simple phrase  
To kids from One to Ninety-Two:

Although it’s been said many times, many ways,  
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU!”


End file.
